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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465226">The #13</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain'>TellMeNoAgain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>EVERY.THING., Fix-It, Gen, Look I Mean Fix EVERYTHING</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:14:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a rough 2020.  So let's indulge ourselves in some sweetness and light.  Let's fix EVERYTHING.  </p><p>You heard me. </p><p>EVERYTHING.</p><p>Remember after that first Avengers movie when we all were glowing with what an amazing team this was gonna be and how much we were gonna enjoy those millions of films we all had in our heads, with all of them going on missions and adventures and stuff?  Yeah.  Let's do that.</p><p>And while we're at it, let's save Uncle Ben, too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The #13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TedraKitty/gifts">TedraKitty</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TedraKitty drops prompts for me like a cloud drops a monsoon.  I'm drowning in fics and universes from TedraKitty, and only half of them are even first-chapter-written completed.  So thank you, TedraKitty, for encouraging everyone around you to bloom and grow.  Very good work.  Very good.</p><p>Special thanks go to the cheerleaders of the TW section of WriterBuddies Discord server, y'all, you keep my chin up and my heart proud!</p><p>As always, deep-hearted appreciation to my betas, jf4m and mindwiped, without whom I would be drowning in run-on sentences.</p><p>All mistakes and mischaracterizations from tags and title to "the end" belong to me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fuck, Tony’s feet hurt.  It’s late, and he’s exhausted, and he sent Happy back with Pepper, before the- before the fight- fucking <em>Doombots</em>- and he’s bruised, and he’s rumpled, and he’s pretty sure he’s got a black eye developing, probably, and he had to trust fucking Natasha with the pieces of his suit, and so the only JARVIS he has is the one in his watch and he’s tired, okay?</p><p>He’s fucking tired.</p><p>No.  He didn’t want an ambulance ride to the nearest hospital.  No.  He didn’t want to wait for transport.  No.  He didn’t want anything but to get home, under his own steam.</p><p>The #13 is fine.</p><p>Nostalgic, even.</p><p>It’s been a long time since he’s ridden the subway.</p><p>He’s so rumpled and his face must actually look like half-hamburger, because no one even notices him.</p><p>Or maybe it’s that it’s the evening commute, the beginning of the evening commute, and no one on the #13 gives a fuck because they’re all tired and there’s only one seat left.</p><p>Well.  It’s his.  He earned it, he saved the fucking city again, he’s tired, and yeah, he could be sitting in the quinjet listening to Steve and Barton rehash everything but he doesn’t <em>want</em> to.  He wants to go home and be Tony Fucking Stark, not Iron Man, just, just for a fucking week, okay?</p><p>One week.</p><p>He collapses toward the seat.</p><p>It’s a sign of how swollen his right eye is that he doesn’t see that there’s another body in motion, and quite honestly?  Once he realizes it, he doesn’t fucking care.  He’s Tony Fucking Stark, right now, he’s got thirty years he could give to the teenager, and teenagers stand and let the elderly and the broken sit, that’s the rule.  On any train.  Not just the #13.  It’s courtesy.</p><p>So he sits, and when the teen sits down on top of him, it’s not even that much of a shock.  That’s how bad his day is going.</p><p>“Ngn,” grunts the teen, and then, pitifully, “‘m sorry, I didn’t- don’t see you-“</p><p>The kid is burning up, in his arms, and from what little Tony can see, he looks <em>worse than Tony</em>.  Every single cell in his body that is Howard Stark’s son screams, <em>Push him off,</em> and maybe that’s why Tony grits his teeth and tries to straighten, wrapping his arms around the youth and croaking, “It’s fine.  I’m- I’m already- it’s fine.  You ok?”</p><p>“Yeah,” croaks the kid.  “Doin’ great.  Thanks for- just dizzy, alla sudden.  Sorry.”</p><p>JARVIS chimes for his attention.  He looks down and the radioactivity reading indicates the kid is Hulking out on top of him.  Beta <em>and</em> Gamma radiation spills from him, and a signature JARVIS can’t place at all.  Well.  That’s gonna change Tony’s plans for this unorthodox commute.</p><p>Tony eyes up the flushed skin, the lips pulled back in an unconscious snarl, the feverish eyes.  “You look like shit,” he tells the kid, thinking as frantically as he can under the wave of exhaustion.  “Where are you headed?”</p><p>“Queens,” the kid mutters.</p><p>“Hate to break it to you, but you’re on the 13,” Tony tells him bluntly, shifting the kid’s slight weight and noting the way the other passengers ignore both of them, the man directly beside them clearly stoned out of his gourd and the woman across from them glaring at her phone.  Thank God for New York.</p><p>“No, no,” moans the kid, the <em>radioactive </em>kid who is clearly in pain.  “The- the 7.”</p><p>“Nope,” corrects Tony, and then he adds, “I gotcha, though.  Hang tight.  Get you where you need to be.”</p><p>Yep.  This is his life.  One crisis to the next.</p><p>“Need to be,” mumbles the kid, his burning hot head loling to rest against the arc reactor, of course.  Tony winces and shifts him until it’s tucked against Tony’s shoulder, instead, one arm wrapping around the kid for support.</p><p>“So what happened to you?” asks Tony quietly.  “Medical experimentation?  Robots? Mutation?”</p><p>The kid actually <em>sniffles</em> and says forlornly, “Spider bit me.”</p><p>“No shit,” muses Tony.  “Some bite.”</p><p>JARVIS flashes the unnecessary information that there is no known spider which causes radioactivity <em>at this magnitude </em>with a bite, although there is a spider native to Australia- and why is it always Australia?- whose bite does inject a micro dose of radioactivity.</p><p>Good to fucking know.  </p><p>“Only problem is, we’re in New York, and he’s bubbling hot,” mutters Tony at JARVIS.  JARVIS blinks back at him and throws up a map, with the little icon “RECALCULATING” which is fucking cute and all, but seriously.  “Get Banner,” Tony tells JARVIS, and the map is replaced by a thumbs up.</p><p>“Wow, yeah, I’d be honored,” mumbles the kid.  “Yeah, wow, I’d love to work with <em>Bruce Banner</em>, are you kidding me?”</p><p>...So he’s a really smart radioactive teenager, potentially hulking out in Tony’s arms.  Still not the weirdest thing to happen today, but definitely taking second place.  <em>He hulks out, he’ll grab first, </em>Tony concedes.</p><p>Thank God this is New York and not Chicago.  No one pays them any attention.  The kid starts to shudder and shake and mutter equations into Tony’s shoulder before falling silent except for little moans two stops before the SI Tower stop.  Tony tries to figure out if he can lift the kid and then figures fuck it, he’s going to have to, when he looks down and sees that the feverish eyes are now half-lidded.</p><p>Fuck.  What a fucking shitty gig, this superhero shit has turned out to be.  Out of a literal fire and into a radioactive frying pan.</p><p>His watch bleeps.  He looks down at it, and then raises it up in front of him, above the kid’s head, and hisses, “Answer.”</p><p>“Tony? There’s- JARVIS says you’re near a radioactive source that may pose significant threat?  You need me?” asks Banner, his voice tinny and the camera way too close to his face, as per usual.  Whatever.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s uh, this,” said Tony, flashing his wrist to take in the kid’s hunched form, the skin swelling and receding in stomach-churning waves.  </p><p>“Oh,” said Banner, his face frozen, and then he shook himself and said, “Yes.  Right.  Ok.  We will- be ready. Then.  For that.”</p><p>“Keep SHIELD out of it.  He’s just a kid.” </p><p>“... right.  Yes.  Ok,” agreed Banner.  “Are you- can you lift him? You’re- you took some damage, you don’t have your suit, Tone-”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll figure it out,” mutters Tony.  He cuts the connection just before they arrive at the next stop.  Travelers enter the car in a flood, but they shy away from the two of them, proving that there is something instinctually intelligent about a New Yorker’s ability to identify <em>something fucked up</em> while never once looking up from their cell phone screens.  The kid mutters something that sounds like “Open,” but which resolves, after multiple miserable repetitions into, “Uncle Ben.”</p><p>“Yeah, tiger, we’ll get you to Ben,” Tony promises, praying the uncle isn’t dead and he’s not a liar and the kid won’t die in the next twenty minutes.  His watch beeps and JARVIS flashes up a photo of a blank profile and the words “searching for Uncle Ben,” which is reassuring.</p><p>At the next stop, their stop, the lights flash emergency red, and a computer voice tolls, “Please calmly evacuate the subway.  Please find the nearest exit and assist others.  Please calmly evacuate the subway,” which is a new message and honestly, gets people moving without unnecessary screaming and running and Tony likes that, he really does.  His head is starting to <em>pound</em>.</p><p>Movement <em>towards</em> them catches Tony’s eye, and he sighs, because big and blue means one thing.</p><p>“Status?” asks the Captain shortly.</p><p>“I don’t know, I’m off the clock, it was <em>my seat</em>, and he sat on <em>me</em>,” sighs Tony.  “Let’s just- just get him to Brucie-bear, okay?  You lift, I’m beat.”</p><p>The kid clings to him, though.  Like, actually <em>clings</em> to him, he rips little bloody patches on Tony’s side when the Captain tries to pick up him.  Tony yelps and Steve’s eyes bug out and he stops tugging on the kid.  “Or, okay, I can carry him, maybe,” sighs Tony.</p><p>“No,” says Steve firmly, “you’ll drop him.”</p><p>“I don’t seem to be <em>able</em> to drop him,” Tony snaps.</p><p>“Ben,” mumbles the kid.</p><p>“Shush, you,” Tony tells him, rubbing his free hand over the kid’s shoulder.  “Mommy and Daddy are having a grown-up discussion.”  He glares at Steve, who glares back.  Tony hisses, “Aren’t you the strategic mind of the century?  Strategize this!”</p><p>Steve says, “Bring us a wheelchair.”</p><p>Fine.  That’ll work.</p><p>Of all the days for Tony to pick the <em>one open seat on the train</em> and have <em>superhero shitwork</em> fall into his lap.  “Your eye looks terrible,” Steve tells him bluntly.</p><p>“Matches your whole face, then,” shoots back Tony.  It’s not his best work, but in his defense? There’s a good chance he’s a little concussed.</p><p>“Tony,” threatens Steve.  </p><p>“Steve,” mocks Tony.</p><p>“Ben,” begs the kid.  “Uncle Ben.”</p><p>They both look down at the writhing body in Tony’s lap, and Steve swallows, turning pale.</p><p>“Is he- uh, does- do you know his name?” asks Steve uncomfortably.</p><p>“Kid,” states Tony authoritatively.  “Potentially also <em>tiger</em> or <em>sport</em>, I haven’t decided.”</p><p>Steve rolls his eyes.  “All right, all right, I wasn’t trying to be a jerk,” he mutters.</p><p>“Call ‘em like I see ‘em,” shoots back Tony and then wishes he could bite his tongue around the guy, because <em>Jesus</em>.  What is he, <em>twelve?</em>  That comeback is so <em>lame</em>.  </p><p>Steve shuffles his feet and then crouches, looking up at the kid.  “Hey, buddy,” he tries.  The kid shrinks back and then turns his face to peer down at Steve, and then gasps in an awed tone that still manages to sound sickly, “Captain America.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s right, little buddy,” says Steve in a crooning, coaxing voice.  “Can you, uh, can I get a high five?”</p><p>The boy shifts in Tony’s arms and holds up a trembling, pulsating hand- it turns Tony’s stomach to watch the muscles bulge and shift.  His other hand remains curled in his lap and Tony looks down into Steve’s eyes with excitement.  Steve winks up at him and then swoops the kid up into his arms in a fast motion, standing and saying firmly, “You wait here for that wheelchair, Stark.”</p><p>“<em>You</em> wait here for a wheelchair,” mutters Tony, but honestly, sitting very still is <em>such a good idea</em>.</p><p>Steve’s gone, then, leaving Tony in an empty subway car with a pounding headache and an aching body and JARVIS bleeping at him.</p><p>He tilts his head back and closes his eyes.</p><p>What a fucking day.</p><p>When the wheelchair arrives, it’s pushed by Rhodey, which, honestly, good call.  Rhodey glares at him and says, “Get in the damn chair.”  Tony huffs and groans and slumps his way into the chair and Rhodey mutters, “I’d hit you for this stunt but JARVIS says you might have a mild concussion, so I’ll save it for after you heal up a bit.”</p><p>“What stunt?” asks Tony bitterly.  “All I did was sit down in the only open seat.”</p><p>“The kid’s in medical, Banner says he’s mostly self-contained, not gonna go supernova or anything,” Rhodey tells him, and Tony takes the first deep breath he’s been able to breathe since the grunt of surprise as the kid fell into his lap.</p><p>“Oh, thank God,” babbles Tony in relief, and Rhodey pats a hand on his shoulder, which means Tony must really look like shit, right now.  “I thought- I thought-” he continues, because he can’t stop himself.</p><p>“Yeah, no, no idea what’s going on with him, but the radiation is not ramping up,” says Rhodey firmly.  </p><p>“Fuck,” sighs Tony, and then, as he realizes where Rhodey is pushing him, “Fuck, no, wait, Rhodey-”</p><p>“You’re <em>also</em> going to medical,” Rhodey tells him severely.  “Because you carried a <em>radioactive child</em> for approximately thirty minutes, while JARVIS blocked all of our tracking efforts, <em>after</em> fighting Doombots for three hours and wrecking a suit in a dive that may have severed your spine.”</p><p>“It didn’t,” protested Tony.</p><p>“It <em>could</em> have,” Rhodey tells him severely, loading him onto the elevator and pushing the button with a vicious swipe that tells Tony more about the man’s current mood than the lecture.  Rhodey can lecture when he’s <em>pleased</em> with Tony’s recent escapade, and the constant grumbling has become so much background noise, over the years.</p><p>“Fine,” huffs Tony, because there’s not even a little chance of winning while he’s probably-concussed and Rhodey’s <em>actually concerned</em>.</p><p>Also, he’s been a little concerned about the radioactive thing, himself.  </p><p>Not that he hasn’t taken his chances with radiation in the past.</p><p>Still, he just got over that little batch of palladium poisoning, he’s just now starting to feel 100%, he’d like to keep it that way, minus the breaks for superhero shin splints.</p><p>Rhodey takes a call while the elevator takes them up to Medical.  “Yeah, no, he’s stopped being his usual bitchy self and fighting me, so that’s concerning, and he looks like shit, but other than that, I think he’s okay, Pep.  Taking him directly to Medical, as ordered.”</p><p>“Thanks, Rhodey,” sighs Pepper.  Tony scowls.  They’re always ganging up on him and their teamwork only gets more and more efficient, as time passes.</p><p>The elevator door opens and Rhodey gets about three steps into the hallway before a team descends on Tony in full bio-hazard gear and directs Rhodey to decontam, while some break off to go scrub the elevator and the rest push Tony down the hall toward Banner’s wing.</p><p>“I refuse to wear the paper shorts and shirts,” Tony tells them, because setting good boundaries is important.</p><p>“That’s okay, we don’t mind full nudity,” says the perky intern-or-whatever who is pushing him.</p><p>“I demand the paper shorts and shirt,” Tony informs her.</p><p>“Aww,” she teases.  “Well, maybe next time.”</p><p>“Next time will not happen,” Tony tells her.  “I am forever going to stand on the train, that’s what this adventure has taught me.  It’s only polite to let <em>anyone else</em> take the last seat.”</p><p>She snorts and then the door to a lab whooshes open and Tony steels himself for the invasive <em>touching</em> that’s going to be necessary for the next hour or so.  </p><p>God, he hates being handed things, or having things handed OVER him, or being touched in general, and it doesn’t help that he knows they’re in biohazard suits so they can’t give him anything, he can’t argue with his lizard brain shrieking, “I have a compromised immune system and a damaged heart!  Stay away from me!”</p><p>He wonders what kind of hell the kid is being put through, elsewhere in the wing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*cracks knuckles*  All right.  What are the things you want fixed MOST?  Gimme a list.</p><p>So far, I got:<br/>1. CIVIL WAR CAN'T HAPPEN.  Tony and Steve gotta figure their shit out like adults.<br/>2. BEN DOESN'T DIE.</p><p>What else you guys wanna see?  Let's end 2020 with some POSITIVITY.  Drop your demands here or find me on Discord- I usually lurk and laugh on the WriterBuddies server, found here: <a href="https://discord.gg/4KWWccK">WriterBuddies</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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